


Fervour

by irishgirl321



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Breaking the Jedi Code (Star Wars), Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreamscapes, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Force Lightning (Star Wars), Force-Sensitive Reader, Kidnapping, Morally Grey Reader, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Reluctant Soulmates, Rescue Missions, Sith Reader (Star Wars), Soul Bond, slight enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:09:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishgirl321/pseuds/irishgirl321
Summary: The orders are clear: Capture the escaped Queen of Naboo. Kill those who accompany her.But on the harsh sands of Tatooine, one encounter changes everything.The Force works in mysterious ways.(Obi-Wan x Sith!Reader)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader, Obi-Wan Kenobi/You
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unable to help myself. Obi-Wan is my comfort character.
> 
> Fervour is the Reader character's name given by Sidious. Same way that he gave "Vader" to Anakin.

Your footsteps reverberate down the quiet hall of the dark temple in which you call home. Each corridor is the same as the last, a maze of shadows, unending walls and flickering overhead lights. It’s a barren place. Depressing and claustrophobic, but you take a strange comfort in it. This hovel is all that you have ever known, save for brief flashes of the outside world. It’s where you grew up, where you were trained. The home of the only family you’ve ever known. Yourself, your master, and an older brother linked by circumstance, not by blood.

“Tired, sister?” a malicious growl asks.

Your cold gaze turns, coming to rest upon the speaker. Maul. His blazing yellow eyes return the stare evenly as a leering smile curves his mouth into a jagged smile. He appears much more alert than you do. Probably due to getting a better night’s rest, with happy dreams of murder dancing across his mind. While you don’t revel in killing, viewing it as more of a necessity to reach certain ends, Maul engages in the act with almost unparalleled glee.

With a mocking sneer, he continues. “Did you have a nightmare? Poor thing. Maybe it’s all getting too much for you. You should take a step back. Bow out.”

“Shut up,” you finally snap. “Nothing's wrong. I slept fine.”

It’s a lie. He can read as much, see it in your pulsating Force signature. The deep magenta haze is throbbing with emotion, with confusion and worry. The fact that he can tell only makes you more enraged, which is in-turn reflected in your aura’s further agitation. A Sith should not be nervous. And yet you are. It’s open and obvious for Maul to see. For _Sidious_ to see.

“You’re weak,” Maul hisses, menace alight on every inch of his face. “He will never choose you as his apprentice.”

Something dark and burning surges inside your chest. The lights throughout the dim corridor flicker as the electricity within the wires distorts and wavers. Maul’s attention darts upwards, and then quickly back down to you. Your hands are clamped into fists at your side. The hairs of your arm rise as violet flecks of lightning sparks along your fingertips. Apprehension flickers in the recesses of his expression. It draws a short chuckle from your mouth. 

“And you’re _afraid_.”

Suitably cowed, Maul says nothing else. You continue on. Against your unwilling brain, the images and sensations of last night flash across your mind. They were strange. Memories that were not your own. Events from the eyes of someone else. Distant thoughts and surges of emotions that jolted you awake at each moment your eyes threatened to finally slide shut. 

It wasn’t the first time that you’d felt the tinge of another far-away presence. However, it had never before been so _clear._ Whoever’s mind was forcing itself onto yours, the read is growing stronger with each passing day. It’s concerning. If you are seeing things from their mind… Are they seeing things from yours?

You have never said anything. Not to Maul, not to Sidious. It is something they do not need to know. Because if it either considers it to be even the _slightest_ concern, they will not simply send you away. They will kill you. And they would find it alarming, and more than a little. Because whoever you are seeing is a _Jedi_. 

Male, maybe. Young, but a little older than your nineteen years. Likely a padawan. In one of his memories, a blonde haired young woman lovingly calls him ‘Ben.’ You’ve yet to see his face. Just flashes of hands, and the glow of a blue lightsaber. As if you are seeing the world from his eyes. It’s disconcerting.

You push the thoughts away. A tall set of double doors looms at the end of the hallway, frame growing larger and more imposing with each step. It’s time to meet with Sidious, and he will know if there is anything distracting you. He always does. Eyes fluttering closed into brief concentration, those thoughts and memories are shoved deep into the recesses of your mind. To a place where you still maintain some control. A place where his prying presence cannot reach.

A loud groan echoes through the space. Your eyes open. The doors slowly swing inward, opening widely. Sidious is seated in a chair, hood angled low so his face is wreathed in darkness. Except for his eyes, of course. That glowing yellow hue, a shade that the three of you all share, is clearly visible even amidst the shadow. He’s been your master for as long as you can remember. Since you were a child. And yet, you’ve never seen his face properly. It’s something that he keeps hidden from both yourself and Maul, and will only reveal once one of you is proven to be the more worthy apprentice. So far, it’s been relatively neck and neck.

But you have a gut feeling that it won’t be for much longer.

“Welcome, Maul.” Sidious inclines his head towards your brother, who bows dutifully. And then that golden gaze pierces you, and you do the same. “Welcome, Fervour.”

“Hello Master.” Both of your voices rise in unison, a perfectly synchronized response.

That shadowed head inclines, acknowledging the show of respect and reverential subjugation. “I have an assignment for you. For _both_ of you.”

Your shoulders stiffen. The way he says the words - the malicious tinge to that rasp - leaves no uncertainty. The time has come. You can feel it in your bones. Maul can too.

His breathing hitches ever so slightly. Sidious pauses for a moment, as if to wallow in the sudden pitch in tension within the room. Mouth drawing into an expression that is half-snarl and half-smile, he continues. “Queen Amidala of Naboo escaped the Trade Federation’s blockade. You will recover her, put an end to those who aided her disappearance, and force her to sign the treaty. By any means necessary.”

Your lower lip rolls nervously between your teeth. That Queen is barely more than a child. Fourteen years old, if you are correct. It’s a ridiculous thing, electing one so young as a political leader, but the Core Worlds have always had a strange habit of placing their fate misguidedly. The ever-visible complacency of the Republic grows.

Oblivious to your inner dilemma, Sidious continues speaking in his low hiss. “I'll be interested to see how this plays out. You both are so _different._ Maul is a competent warrior who is _truly_ committed to the cause. But Fervour… Fervour has the potential to be more powerful, if she was not so often plagued by hesitation and indecision.” His gaze falls on you, head tilting to the side.

You can feel his presence hovering in the air like a cloud of dark smoke, caressing your force signature thoughtfully. His voice is a dark purr as he continues. “That conflict of yours. It’s back. I can sense it.” 

Maul’s eyes gleam in your peripheral vision as he turns to drink in the expression of horror that spreads across your greying face. Anticipation all but radiates from him. Your throat dries instantly. It’s like your body forgets how to function for a few seconds. When the knowledge comes back, your head jerks in a desperate, pleading shake.

“No.” Your voice is high, panicked. “That’s… I’m not. I’m _not_ conflicted.”

Sidious’s voice holds what could have been mistaken for gentle amusement, if not for the cold anger radiating from his eyes. “Yes, my dear. You _are._ Not to worry, it can be quickly rectified.”

One clawed hand lifts from where it rests on the arm of the chair. You stumble back, desperately, but to no avail. The stammering protest never makes it past your throat.

His mind bores into yours.

_Harsh._

_Violating._

All strength floods from your body. A cry of agony leaves your lips as the world crumples and you fall to the ground. Flashes of darkness blue your vision. Your hands clawing into the hard tile floor. Lightning shudders uselessly down your arms, jolting your body into a painful spasm. Tears of agony well in your eyes. 

It’s like someone is boring a hole in your temple, reaching in to tear your brain from your skull. 

Burning, indescribable pain intrudes into every part of your thoughts. Except for one, the place where those other memories lie. The ones of the Jedi you see in your dreams. They are shielded. Unfathomably hidden from his reach, in that recess that he has never been able to find. But that small sliver of peace is nothing in this moment, as he tears through your mind, as sharp and unrelenting as a knife.

Your body seizes wildly as Sidious reaches in, deep down, to the parts of your mind where your weaknesses live. Confusion _. Indecision_ _. Compassion_ _. All_ those sentiments that could make you hesitate, that could tempt you from the dark side. Your master takes hold, and twists them, breaks them, until they are nothing but dusted fragments at the back of your thoughts. Until only anger and hate rule your actions.

And then he retreats like the tide, drawing slowly back until you can’t feel anything at all. No _pain. No fear._ Just your chest working to try and catch your breath again. _Nothingness._ Just cold, calculated calm, and an all-consuming desire to obey.

The lightning sparking down your body fades now that you are back in control, dissipating back into your skin. You can feel it heating your veins, but the sparks are muted now. Submissive. They will follow your master's command, just as you will. And you will do so without hesitation, to sow the seeds of the Republic's destruction.

_This will be fun._

A dark amusement fills your mind, encouraged by Sidious, and a soft chuckle leaves your lips as you rise gingerly back to your feet. Your eyes are even brighter now, nearly as molten as Maul’s bitter gaze. Your brother's jealousy all but radiates, crimson and burning. 

For so long, you have both vied for your Master's favour, and despite all of your misgivings and Maul's many successes, Sidious refuses to cast you out just yet. You both know why, even if your brother refuses to voice it, prefers to insist that you weak. You are stronger in the Force. Everyone knows it. Sidious craves a worthy apprentice, and so he will continue to give you these chances until it becomes absolutely clear that you are not fitted for the role.

From underneath his hood, Sidious’s mouth hemorrhages into a jagged smile. “Better?”

Your lips curve into a cold grin in response. “Yes. Thank you, Master.” There is no waver to your voice now. Any earlier concerns have been burned from your thoughts. 

The Queen of Naboo will bend to your will. Your lightning will more than ensure that.

“Good,” he murmurs in a low growl. “Now go. You know what you have to do.” 

Maul’s side brushes yours as you both turn to leave. Your adopted brother’s elbow jars into your side. No wince of pain or words of protest spill from your mouth. Only a sadistic smile is aimed his way, accompanied by a searing bolt of electricity that jerks from your fingertips to burrow into his side. His body jerks, contorted by the sudden electricity, and a low snicker brushes from your throat. 

Sidious’s voice rings out from behind, commanding you both to a halt once more. “Maul. Fervour.” You turn, two pairs of dark-side imbued gazes falling on the throned figure. He speaks again, and his words are a twisted caress. “Just remember, my loyal servants. Only one can prevail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To confirm, the golden eyes are not Reader's natural colour, but a result of usage of the Dark Side of the Force. And as her speciality is Force Lightning, an inherently Dark Side ability, this colour made sense. Plus, imagine yourself with burning yellow eyes. You'd look awesome.
> 
> If you liked this, please let me know! I want to see how much interest there is for this fic if I am to continue it. :)
> 
> This story is also available on Tumblr:  
> https://clints-lucky-arrow.tumblr.com/post/645195839602589696/fervour-chapter-one


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the encouragement on the previous chapter! Here is Chapter Two. :) Hopefully it gives a bit more a feel for the story. Updates will spread out a bit, but I thought it might be a good idea to post the second chapter quickly enough.

Relentless sunlight beats down on your face. Dressed in a tight black and red ensemble, there is no escape from the scorching climate of Tatooine, especially amidst the Dune Sea. A bead of sweat runs down your temple. One gloved hand lifts to wipe it away. Your hood is down, hair fluttering behind as it is tossed with the wind. The soles of your boots sink into the warm sands. Beside you, Maul shifts in near silence, golden eyes scanning the sands. 

That little Queen is here on Tatooine. 

Something distant catches your eye. Glinting metal zips over the distant hills. One of Maul’s scouts. It’s rapid return signals that its mission has been a success. Your brother turns wordlessly on his heel, cape flapping behind him as he strides towards the speeders. His is a pristine silver, but yours is a rusted mass that has noticeably seen many years. The fact that you have received the shittier model is certainly no accident. Maul is petty like that, and he was the one who had secured them back in Mos Eisley.

“Hurry up,” he snaps over his shoulder, swinging one leg across his vehicle’s seat. 

Your mouth flattens into a thin display of muted annoyance. The hard cushion of the speeder is warm as you sit. No doubt heated by the sun. Pipes groan as the engine starts up, a weak rev in comparison to Maul’s louder roar. Your eyes roll skyward. _Of course._

He takes off suddenly, leaving wind and sand scattering into your face. A loud curse bursts from your lips as one arm lifts, attempting to block the grains from boring into your eyes. _Too late._ The sting causes you to momentarily abandon the pursuit, muttering angry curses under your breath as you try to wipe your eyes and blink the dirt away. By the time you manage to look up through a watering gaze, Maul has become a distant blur. Another snarled expletive is aimed at his back. The throttle twists back under the tight grip of your palm and the speeder jets off after him.

He wasn't always so flippant in his disregard for you. There had been a time - back when you were children with nothing but one another - that you had been close. Sidious had made sure that the bond had soured as you approached adulthood, pitting you continually against eachother until nothing but frustration and hate remained. For the most part, you don't miss that closeness. Not when Sidious's influence is thick on your mind. 

But sometimes, in the moments where your Master's grip weakens enough for you to think clearly, your thoughts will drift back to it with a melancholy ache.

You don’t manage to catch up with him. Not on an older vehicle with so much distance between you. His dark shape is still visible in the distance, however. A black dot against the beige sands. The engine of your speeder splutters slightly, coughing exhaust, starting to fail the strain of the rapid pace. You can feel the electricity starting to fail. Purple sparks spit from underneath your skin as a blast of Force lightning burrows into the vehicle, reviving it with a sudden jolt.

Flying through the dunes, eventually the vague outline of a ship rises from the ground. Undoubtedly, it harbours the escaped Queen of Naboo. There’s no other reason that they would have landed so far away from the nearby town. 

Movement catches your eye. Two figures, a man and a boy, running across the sands. Maul is bearing down upon them. The child has to throw himself to the side to avoid being mowed down by your brother’s speeder. Your companion vaults perfectly from the vehicle, spinning in the air as his red lightsaber ignites. It is met by an opposing green glow, suddenly held aloft in the hand of the man. _A Jedi._ You take him in quickly. Older. Long brown hair tied back, and sand covered robes.

Maul spins towards him, and the two lightsabers spark together in a sharp collision. Off to the side, the boy staggers back to his feet and continues to run towards the ship, the ramp of which is obediently lowered to the ground. You reach the scene just as the child rushes up into the safety of the interior. Indecisive, your head snaps from Maul to the vessel. Quickly catching your gaze, your brother lets out a roar in response as he continues to battle. “Take down the ship!”

At the same moment, the lights on board the craft begin the glow. The engine rumbles, preparing for take off. Within the window of the cockpit, a collection of startled faces stare out at you. The child is there, huddled close to another younger man. The craft begins to rise.

Sand sinks underneath your boots as you stride purposefully forward to the tip of the dune, one hand lifting from your side, fingers stretching towards the rising vessel. Violet surges of lighting spark down your arm, bringing an indescribably thrill. The words that hiss from your lips are a low snarl. “Not so fast.”

You can feel the engine within the vessel. The hum of electricity, the pulses running through the wires. It vibrates through the air, sparking your senses like a wave of radiation. Those sparks dancing down your extended arm fizz into a churning frenzy. _Electricity recognising electricity._ You seize hold of it, the power inside the craft, and slowly _twist._

The lights in the ship begin to blink, the engine struggling and system alarms blaring loudly. Cries ring out from inside. You can feel the crew’s fear, the mounting panic from the struggling Jedi behind as he tries to break away from Maul and turn his attention to you. Your brother’s onslaught offers no such chance. It is not any protective instinct that drives him, but the knowledge that you can force this ship to the ground and he cannot.

And then, with a cold smile, your hand twists abruptly to the side, as if snapping an invisible tether. The engine dies instantly, culled at your wordless command. The ship collapses back to the sands with a loud thud and the sound of shattering metal as one of the still-retreating legs snap. Dust billows from the impact, and you twist away from the blast, lifting an arm to shield your eyes. The sand rushes past you, scratching your cheeks, tangling in your hair. 

The Jedi yells in horror, his momentary distraction enough for Maul to batter him to the side. You are just about to turn, to help your brother in putting an end to this fight once and for all, when something prickles against your skin. The lightning sparks in warning, and in something unfathomably akin to excitement. Slowly, you turn, hands falling to your belt, to where a black hilt is clipped close to your waist.

At the end of the ship’s crooked ramp, stands that younger man. The one who had watched you from the cockpit. His hair is sun-kissed copper, rising into short spikes. He may be a little older than your nineteen years, but not by much. Rather handsome, save the atrocious haircut. His face is calm, fixed in a determination that is almost amusing. What you know to be a padawan braid falls away in a thin tail from the rest of his cropped hair, resting atop his shoulder. In his hands, a blue lightsaber surges to life.

_Another one. Well, at least it is a fair fight._

A chuckle escapes your lips as you lift your own free, fingers sliding down the ebony hilt to find that smooth circular button. The rippling crimson glow of your own lightsaber is warm against your face. The red blade is a deep bloody colour that matches the interior of the cape falling from your shoulders. In your free hand, violet lighting gathers on your forearm, flickering with anticipation.

“Surrender the Queen of Naboo,” you call, voice cold and aloof. “And we may just let your crew live.”

That is a lie, but the Padawan does not need to know that. 

Your eyes bore into his across the sands, to where he stands below at the base of the ship. He stares up at you with equal resilience. Your head tilts, noting that his eyes are the same azure hue as the saber gripped readily between his fingers. 

“Yield,” he responds haughtily, in an eloquent Coruscanti accent. “You will not win this.”

Your laugh is barren. “We’ll see about that.”

And with that, you vault off the edge of the dune, raising your blade into the air. The lightsabers crackle against one another as you land, blades momentarily locked. He side-steps away to slash at your side. You block expertly, knocking him away. Years of savage training with Maul and Sidious have made you quick, have made you strong. This Padawan, under the soft nurture of his Master, should be no match. Sidious has always said that they are weak.

So you are faintly surprised when he parries your next succession of hits with strong arms and light feet. He’s good. Much better than expected. And… There’s something about him. You can’t place it. He's strangely familiar. 

The copper haired Padawan abruptly turns the tables, dealing hard blows that shake your arms. Absorbing them with grunts of strain, you manage to whirl past one harsh strike, attempting to bring the lightsaber down on his skull and cleave him in two. There is no time for him to bring his own blade around. _You have him._ Or so you think, until he does something unexpected.

Something that changes _everything._

His hand shoots up, fingers locking around your wrist and restraining your arm. The contact surges through your skin like a bolt of lightning, blasting away some of those dark clouds restraining your inner thoughts. Sidious's influence wavers. The Force around you _warps._ It shudders, twisting in on itself. Panic and confusin surges in your chest.

_You’ve never felt anything like it before._

Panic and bewilderment surge inside your stomach. Utterly lost in the sensation, you don’t notice the ship’s engine splutter to life again, all of the lights turning on. 

The agitated mass of emotions send a wave of lightning boiling down your arms, spearing straight into the Padawan’s chest. The cracking jets sending him spinning on to the sand. He rolls, in pain, but not dead. A shock like that should have killed him. It should have stopped his heart right there in his chest. But as he struggles onto his feet again, body seizing with the remaining sting of your electricity, it's clear that it failed. 

_How?_

_Why?_

As you pause, too lost in your own turmoil to remember to continue this battle, something strange happens. Your vision blurs. Another image, projected from a different mind, overtakes what you’re witnessing with your own eyes. Even odder, is the fact that you can see _yourself_. Dressed in a tight black and red uniform, dark cape billowing from your shoulders, its blood-red interior shadowed. The lightsaber in your hands glows a rippling crimson, sparking dangerously like the lightning that so often runs down your arms. Your golden eyes look almost burnished amber as the blade’s light reflects off of it. They are hard, staring right ahead, straight at _you_. Slowly, their harsh expression morphs, changing into a startled confusion.

A new understanding dawns as your vision flickers, and returns to normal. Only metres away, the Jedi Padawan stands. His chest is heaving, mouth agape. Without words, it’s obvious that he has had the same experience. That he saw himself from your point of view. Whoever this man is, there is something inexplicable binding you both.

Your words come out as a quiet rasp, lacking their earlier cold affront. "Who are you?"

Before he can utter a response, a shout rings through the air. "Obi-Wan!"

_… Obi-Wan?_

The Jedi Master rolls into view, seizing hold of his Padawan's shoulders as the ship rises steadily from the ground. They blur, leaping impossibly high, to land on the ship’s receding platform. 

“Stop them!” Maul screams from somewhere behind.

That dark influence rises up in your mind once more, shocking away those bewildered and conflicted thoughts. Your mouth sets into a harsh snarl of determination. Electricity gathers in your palms and you hurl a bolt of roiling lightning at the ship, but the jet is uncontrolled. _Wild._ It misses the craft, exploding across the sky behind it with a resounding boom. Untouched, the vessel zips away into the clouds. 

From behind, Maul lets out an unintelligible howl of frustration. A metallic clang rings out as he takes his frustration out on his speeder, the metal shattering under his telepathic rage.

You can only stand there, arms uselessly hanging at your side. The point of your still-ignited saber digs into the sand, burning the grit it comes into contact with. The bitter scent fills your nostrils, but you do not notice. A sensation of all-consuming confusion swirls inside your chest. In the distance, the ship grows smaller with each passing second. Until it is just a blip in the crystalline sky, but you can still feel him. 

As if the confrontation has cracked open something deep inside that now cannot be closed. His bewilderment is thick on your tongue, mixing with your own jumbled turmoil. He had felt it too. _Whatever that was._ The vision, and the rhythmic pulsations of your Force signatures.

In perfect unison, utter synchronisation. As if they were one and the same.

That name sears through your mind. _Obi-Wan._

Maul stalks toward you, his face twisted in rage. Spittles flies out with each of his words as one clawed fingers jabs into your chest. “What _happened?”_

You falter, lost, confused, one hand lifting to rake through your hair. _“I don’t know.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you liked it! Comments and kudos are a writer's muse.
> 
> Also available on Tumblr:  
> https://clints-lucky-arrow.tumblr.com/post/645270457579372544/fervour-chapter-two-obi-wan-kenobi-x


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